Rekindling and Reuniting (Blaise)

[Chandler Stafford]

Kocher. Blaise just came from Kocher. And a few months after that, Chandler was going to be arriving for the very first time. He had himself tucked in nice and comfortably. Hammel was a strange place, in a town that was too small for his liking. He was used to cities. London, portions of Buckinghamshire, Dallas. The town here was tiny, though. The police department could hardly be counted on two hands, if he had to guess! A place like this just wasn't safe, so he had to trust the institution. After all, this school /somehow/ had the ability to bypass several laws internationally.

Five or six years ago, Chandler lost his only brother. Even though they seemed to be very distant at that point, it didn't stop him from missing his older brother every day. Blair and Sophie? They were nice, of course, but they just weren't like him in a lot of respect, they didn't have a lot of the issues he did, since they were groomed an entirely different way.

And now was a time for them to re-connect. He waited until around lunchtime to go survey the cafeteria. It was a large, open mess hall-looking sort of place. But he knew it was the place his brother wouldn't be able to avoid. It was inherently a social situation, when you could be shoulder-to-shoulder with someone at any time. When you could sit with a group of eight to immediately converse with.

Not exactly his tastes. Chandler himself much preferred his tutors in the comfort of one of their several estates, or vacation homes. He already had a network of acquaintances from lesser families if he ever desired a social situation... But, again, the choice was out of his hands. The feeling itself never surprised him, he was used to Father and Mother coddling him and pushing him all over. It's why he loved the arts, and then fancier 'arts' like croquet, boxing, and swimming. But to be pushed by some institution...

He spotted his brother, and those emotions that bubbled up within him could hardly be contained. Chandler swiftly approached Blaise with a wide grin. He threw both arms over his shoulders, clasping his hands at the front of his chest, between either pec.

"It's been so long, dear brother."

[Blaise Stafford]

It wasn't that, in this long time, Blaise had forgotten about his younger brother. How could he forget about Chandler? It used to be they were inseparable. They banded together, against their sisters. They explored and played make-believe and generally had-fun. In fact, when they were separated, playing with his baby brother was one of the only things that continued to linger in his mind, for days and days. 

But things had definitely changed since then, but most important of all, Blaise had changed. His mind hadn't been on any kind of play for years now, and the focal family member in his life was father. His social life had turned from what was exciting to what was prudent, what fit into that spectrum of careful-grooming that was the framework of his life. His mind was on his studies, his mind was on his relationships, his mind was on everything that could build him up rather than push him down. Even in the cafeteria, he'd taken a quick scan-over to see who was sitting where, who seemed worthy of sitting with. 

When nobody did, he took the empty one, to avoid making any mistakes. 

His appearance was of absolute importance, especially now, now that he was making a name and making his way through this new school that had been thrust into his life. What was maybe 2 years out of his life, after all? Hardly anything, hardly any time to make the connections he needed to make. And it had to be said, with some of the powers these metahumans carried, they were worthier of being made connections than a lot of his other contacts. 

Which was why when he felt the pair of small arms wrap around him his entire body stiffened up, spoon of egg-salad caught hovering just below his mouth. Who in the world was hugging him? But more importantly... Who'd seen it? He heard the voice, however, the one that only hardly changed, he knew right away that it was Chandler. 

Forward, but probably not in the good way. 
Why of course!

His demeanor did a very sudden 180 and he swiftly turned in his seat, pulling one leg over the bench and lifting Chandler up with both arms. He grunted a bit, getting him up on his lap... That boy weight quite a bit more than before.

"Chandler, I was wondering when I'd stumble across you." he remarked, with an actual cheer on his tone. 

[Chandler Stafford]

He adjusted himself on his lap, knees at either side. "Oh, don't let me interrupt your delicious meal." He looked over that egg salad with a hint of disdain. He wasn't much of an egg guy. His breakfasts were toast, and bacon, or cereal. The eggs he could absolutely do without.

Oh, but he was so glad to see him again. That face. He had to take in all of the details. It wasn't the same, merely speaking to him on the phone for five minutes, or even the prospect of seeing a photograph from Europe. He could have cried, and he very well nearly did... Steel your nerves, and be strong. Chandler's mind chanted, until he sucked in a lot of air through his nose, exhaling through barely-parted lips.

"Oh, I'll save you /some/ humility." He decided, scooting off of his lap, and sitting by him. The last he remembered, Blaise sort of pushed him away, half out of necessity, but the front excuse was always because 'well, you just do childish things'. He needed to do everything that indicated that he was no longer a child, bring a new light to his brother's eyes.

Chandler held an admiration for the family heir. Always did. All of the play they did was only accented by talks and advice, from brother to brother, guy to guy. Things that they could really bond over. And that could so perfectly transfer from the childish stage of both of their lives, to the adult stage.

He knew his brother. Later on, in the business world, they'd have a tighter bond than ever. Regular phone calls, vacations together. No Stafford man could reasonably survive alone. There was a lot on their plate. It was like reasonably expecting a Basileus to run all of Byzantium alone without succumbing to mixed drinks and the knife.

"We have a lot to discuss. How have you been since I last saw you..?"

[Blaise Stafford]

When Chandler insisted on slipping off his lap, he couldn't have said he was altogether surprised. After the surge of familial affection, he was able to remember that they did both have reputations to retain. So he turned his other leg over the bench, taking another quick look around. Nobody's heads had turned, so they were probably alright, and it wasn't as if anyone was sitting with them anyhow. So he took a moment to look his younger brother up and down, to marvel at how he'd grown. Then, he, himself, was probably more of a marvel. Towering at the height he was at...

"Indeed we do." he replied, sitting back against the edge of the table and crossing his knees, "I've been well. Enough. School, parties; Business as usual, you know..." 

He spoke and acted so much differently than he used to when he was young. His speech was curt and proper, his shoulders set level and eyes holding contact. It had to have been all the posture-correction, the finishing tutors, everyone who'd been on his ass about the way he acted all along. The maturity definitely showed, even during this lapse of loving nostalgia he was showing his brother. 

"What of you, however? I've heard a little bit about your power... What was it, talking to flowers?" he had to ask. It was of course of some note that these two brothers both manifested their abilities, so close in the family tree. And now here they were, attending school together. If Blaise were the sort of man to believe in fate he'd assume that it was actually playing a hand in this. 

"It honestly sounds a bit dull." 

[Chandler Stafford]

"It does, doesn't it?" Chandler was also very proper. Though, that was in part because he was more receptive to the tutoring, more receptive to the whole idea. They were on a high pillar, the highest echelon of society. Father never really had to cane him for a lack of pride in how he'd carried himself, spoke. There was nothing to punish in terms of proper versus improper. Not being the heir, he didn't really have the station to disagree.

Being given a trust fund that would see him through the rest of his life, as well as the skills and connections to be a successful investor, to continue the wealth of both himself, and his family. If he were the heir, oh, he couldn't even imagine the pressure. All of the companies, all of the connections, all of the big business, and being the face that represented Stafford. That was where the 'Royal Rebels' came from, heirs that were never properly attended to.

"It's actually pretty horrid, though. The day I had, manifested, as they call it." it sounded so ridiculous, like he morphed in to another being. These terms were ones he didn't agree with. "Geoffrey, you remember him, the gardener. He was working that day. I was outside. It was time to snip the roses, trim the unruly buds... And they were screaming, as if it were a battlefield."

Like he'd know that... It just seemed like the best analogy to use. "They always talk to each other, too. So it's not really like I am the catalyst, the control they need. Short-term memory discourses on the day. So, I don't know. If I'm lonely, I can open a window and listen to the bushes." He chuckled.

"But compared to others, yes. It's very dull."

[Blaise Stafford]

Blaise was able to listen with a fairly straight face, until moments after he told the story of his manifestation. He couldn't hold it anymore and just laughed, absolutely tickled by the idea. It sounded like some kind of joke somebody would tell about metahumans; the shrieking of the foliage as it was clipped down. And he couldn't rightly imagine that the flowers had any real, plausible capability to understand the /human/ language, which made the power all the more laughably useless.

But it did eventually occur to him how grim and awful an experience it likely was for Chandler, all humor aside -- and how very much out of his control it must have been. So he let his laughter trail on a few chortles, wiped his eye dramatically and sighed.

"That has got to be the most hilarious thing I have ever heard." he frankly mused, still visualizing the carnage, "Oh lord, but... Ahahah, yes, in all honestly, I'm drawn to wonder what there even is for plants to say to one another. Do they discuss business?"

He paused.

"Dirty gossip over who was pollinated?" he couldn't resist adding that last part, which brought back some more laughter. It honestly wasn't at Chandler's expense, it was just absolutely hilarious...

[Chandler Stafford]

This was met with a very bitter frown. The sort of frown that he made every time something truly /struck a nerve/ with him. He just scoffed, and placed his forearms on the table, fingers weaved together, thumbs drumming on the table. He waited out that laughter. That joking.

And the worst part about it was not only could he really not joke back to Blaise, but it would leave a bad taste in his mouth. What joke could he make? Something about him poisoning himself? Something with him nearly dying when he first manifested? He couldn't help not having an exciting ability. So, instead of blowing up, he just explained how he saw it, collected.

"I honestly don't know how it works." He shrugged. "But they usually talk about how pleasant the weather is. Or, when it was rainy the other day, just how thirsty they had been. It's very simple, really. It doesn't seem to be anything to rival the likes of Aristotle."

Nor did he ever expect that to be the case. These weren't little Yggdrasils, they were simple decorative plants. Base emotions, simple observational 'chatter', that must have somehow been related to some natural function he didn't understand. He would with time, that's what trainers were for.

"... So, how do you think Father is going to handle only having three women in the house, now?"

[Blaise Stafford]

Blaise could tell that he was uncomfortable with the subject after that scoff, though that didn't stop him. He wasn't laughing at Chandler as much as he was laughing at the very concept of such an ability. His own, he entirely understood why Chandler didn't joke about it, but he still silently took a subconscious note of the submissive response. Nope, he wasn't any different than when he was little. Much with the simplicity of thought that the flowers shared, he was already thinking of how easy his brother would be to lord over.

So he relaxed on a deep breath, lips turned up in a pleasant smile, folding his hands. Only three women? Well, that only cemented it. In all likelihood that was what father had been telling him throughout his life, which was odd to consider. After all, Blaise had always been a little envious of Chandler's position in the family. The careless baby.

"Oh, I'm sure he'll manage." he answered honestly, shrugging. Father definitely wouldn't be ruined in the boy's absence, not that Blaise would say that, "I'm willing to bet they're all missing you, however."

Mother, of course, and the girls. Those things went without saying. Unless something had changed, and he was no longer their favorite little boy. But it wasn't the kind of question one answered honestly.

[Chandler Stafford]

"Missing me, after such a small amount of time. I truly doubt it. If there is anybody they're missing most of all, it's you." It was true, he'd been gone for /so long/ now. Five years. Five years of not even really being able to go on vacation. Of course, these limitations were dampened by the plethora of technology that allowed one to speak to someone across the globe. Skype, easily affordable smartphones that had face-cameras.

He was well aware of his lot in life, and he could actually pick up, this time, on the underlying tone. And really, it was impossible to deny. He was indeed the male that everyone could dote on. The sweetheart. The one to dress up and put in a suit, to increase relations because of just how angelic he was in a formal setting. And it was still the role he would fill, no matter how aware of it he ever became.

Because that was his job. Much like being the staunch businessman and the respectable young man was Blaise's job. One brought a lot of cheek-pinching and absolute adoration from the (older) ladies, the other brought a lot of respect and prestige, courtesy of other men.

But of course he was in the dark about any other implication. Father would never be unfaithful. Even when he was on these extensive business trips, all that went on during them was just that, business. Things that brought them money, power.

"Blair was talking about you, just before I left. Lamenting over the fact that you still weren't home."

[Blaise Stafford]

Blaise was honestly a little doubtful of that. All he could remember of her was how she always hounded him about how he treated Chandler. Lord, did she ever know how to overreact. From what he remembered, she was more likely to mourn over how badly she missed him when it was a convenient way to garner up attention. He shrugged when he heard that, "Well, Blair will also manage."

It was actually a bit sad, the more he saw Chandler talk like that. There was another side to every story, this boy's notwithstanding, and he was only beginning to get an idea of what Chandler's side had been like. Everyone had to have pride, even if it wasn't on tier with Blaise's, he notwithstanding. If Blaise was in his place, he'd be thoroughly embarrassed by his position.

So he looked behind him and took his plastic platter and his fork, having a few spoonfuls of egg salad. It would probably have been better to change the subject. They did have so much to talk about, after all.

"So are you enjoying Hammel...? It's certainly an interesting lot that attends here."

[Chandler Stafford]

He hadn't been here for long enough to really create a proper judgment. Really, all he had to go off of, to bring about some conclusion were the people he'd seen. And so far, he saw someone nearly set himself ablaze because of a few motions of the hand, and likely something inside of his mind. He saw someone who walked about with a merry tune following him out of /nowhere/.

"It's strange, brother, to say the least. An interesting lot doesn't even begin to describe it." A sly look over either shoulder, and he lowered his voice. "This place isn't exactly the bastion of safety for us, either. I'm surprised you haven't run in to any trouble at the European Hammel, or whatever it is called. I'm sure I'll grow to like some of the people here but... They're just dangerous."

After all, making a cocktail out of hormones, drama, and /powers/ was just a recipe for trouble. The staff here had better have been on top of everything. But, then again, they probably /had/ some sort of mind reader who knew when the fights were about to begin! He didn't know if that made him feel safe, or even more frightened. Why couldn't they just have a private trainer. Why were they allowed to kidnap them like this?

"I really wish it'll wind up being negotiable one of these days. You've already... survived your gauntlet, but I'd like to at least be able to go back to the estates, and have a trainer visit me around the clock or, God forbid, be a live-in like some of the maids."

[Blaise Stafford]

Blaise, on the other hand, wore no uncertainty. From what he could tell, this place was just about spot-on with Kocher, as far as the whole student dynamic worked. People cliqued, people hurt other people's feelings, some people lived under the preposterous idea that these were the 'best years of their lives.' It was actually pretty typical of every high school, but it was as Chandler was saying. Throw powers into the mix and you have a recipe for disaster.

"We're fine, right now." he answered, having honestly put a lot of thought into this, "But you're right in being concerned. There are a lot of really dangerous people here."

While it was great to have these trainers running around, and other Hammel employees, they were still both outnumbered and malleable as any other human being. There wasn't really any pre-institution regulating the metahumans, and that was a concern for everyone involved.

"You know, I've heard of an organization up here that goes by the name of 'PUSE'. They're supposedly an up-and-coming with the intention of establishing a sort of control over Metakind, Meta-specific laws..." he shrugged and scoffed, "You know, if that's the ends they seek, they've got Stafford support. I'm simply so wary of any organization that promises 'world peace' or 'equality.' Or other ideal fantasies."

[Chandler Stafford]

"I'd rather like to see or hear about their Agenda, first." He replied. There were so many opportunities, and examples throughout history, of a 'good cause' turning in to an awful mess. The first one he could always think of was Adolf Hitler. And that was possibly the best case, the best example, that he could have underneath his belt. Really, though, this school just seemed badly thrown together.

"So, they managed to get federal, royal, and other international laws to recognize their existence and purpose. To pick people up for the safety of others. They then hone them to be 'safe' or at least more efficient with their... Abilities. And they don't even use the same system they did to /pick us up/ to see whether or not people are abusing it?"

That just rubbed him the wrong way altogether. As Stafford men, they were always going to be targets. The other students, sure, they made him feel uneasy. And that was because of the very nature of 'teenagers with powers'. But their competitors must have caught wind of this. The lesser families.

And then what would happen when somebody stalked them who could just whip fireballs around, and turn around to do the same to any security guard or police officer that came by to stop them? "There honestly needs to be some sort of legislation in place... Or at least just that sort of bureau. And absolutely, if they're looking for investors to back that, and it's actually valid, we could definitely convince Father. Well, you better than I."

A generous sprinkle of a few million here... A TV commercial there. Honestly, he couldn't care less if this was a relatively new facet of society. Whenever something new came along, it needed to be controlled in some sense. The Internet would be a great example to point to.

[Blaise Stafford]

"Agreed."

Honestly, people would expect that upon 'manifestation', one immediately became a representative of foolhardy 'metahuman rights', but he couldn't consider himself a part of that so-called community. These people were threats, a lot of them, and they believed that even though they were the ones with the pyrokinesis, or the storm-control, that they somehow deserved /more/ rights than everybody else.

No, what they deserved was more regulation. Blaise was a Stafford man, anyhow, and Stafford men had a habit of escaping things like that. They were simply destined for better things, in the end, to do greater deeds. Common law escaped them.

"Well, have you been moved into a dorm yet, brother?" he asked, another change of the subject, "I've got my fingers crossed on a nice co-ed."

[Chandler Stafford]

He rolled his eyes, and chuckled. "Of course you are. And no, I haven't yet. I was thinking about making a special request to be put in a room with you, but I know how I would just get in between you and the ladies." He didn't mean for that to end on as sour of a note as it did, but it was his subconscious self-reminded. That self-reminder that no matter what, he was still sort of just 'the child' of the family.

And he couldn't help but remind himself 'Oh yeah, you're embarrassing more often than not.' Was it his fault he wanted to share a room with his brother? The only person here that he felt a true connection with so far? Sure, he'd probably find a friend or two, a group of acquaintances, but in the end, family was king, and he wanted to sit right by the king's throne.

If not just for his comfort, than for the betterment of tomorrow. "So, I might arrange a co-ed as well, or just a boy's dorm. Honestly, if only they could just show us the proper respects and recognize the danger of us sharing rooms with these people with powers... And just give us one of our own." It sounded spoiled to the normal ear, but as far as he was concerned, the worry was more than valid.

"Whatever happens, happens, though. I don't think I want to join in this school's clubs. Or anything that puts me shoulder to shoulder with someone that could immolate me at the snap of a finger." But, that wasn't set in stone. With him, something as broad as that was bound to change.